Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there—
Ours boasts of it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere
For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges on the doors;
I should apologize, I guess,
For toys strewn on the floor.
But I sat down with the children
And we played and laughed and read;
And if the doorbell doesn’t shine,
Their eyes will shine instead.
For when at times I’m forced to choose
The one job or the other;
I want to be a housewife—
But first I’ll be a mother.